The Sword in the Stone
by Cosette 24601
Summary: A King Arthur twist to the Return to Narnia, in which Rhindon is stuck in a stone.
1. Chapter 1

**A King Arthur-esque twist to the return of the Pevensies in** ** _Prince Caspian._**

 **Just a random idea that inspired me! Not really a crossover since this doesn't cross with a particular retelling of the King Arthur myth, but it's inspired by the sword in the stone scene in most King Arthur , and I've always wondered why everyone believed the Pevensies so easily.  
**

The ravaged gardens of Cair Paravel were packed with the few remaining refugees, too fearful to remain anywhere but in the deepest forest or under the protection of the king, what little defense he could offer. Even before this war, the king could barely keep the Narnians alive. King Corin had taken over when all the monarchs of the Pevensie Dynasty had disappeared mysteriously, not a trace of them left. For a few more decades, Corin could hold onto the last remnants of the Golden Age for those who would accept him as king. But eventually, he could only keep the discontent Narnians from rebelling by bringing in Archen forces to crush the instigators.

From that point on, Narnia fell apart at the center. An Archen takeover was the last thing they wanted – or so they thought when those forces began coming. While they were busy fighting their one time neighbors, friends, and the people of their adequate king, they were weakened into a compromising position. The enemy Telmarines simply had to abide their time, ready to swoop in and take over once neither the Archenlanders or the Narnians could possibly face them.

By the time Corin realized this, even he, as prone to fighting as he was, had to admit it was a losing battle. When no sign of Aslan was apparent, he sought out the ancient woods-goddess Pomona and river god Beruna.

"Your Greatnesses. I implore you to rise up to protect your lands," Corin called, his once strong and deep voice now cracking with age that had come all too fast under all the stress and fighting.

"Those who can rise up to protect these lands are not in this world, young King," Pomona said, her woodsy voice swirling in the wind.

"Their Majesties truly have returned to their world then as so many suspect?" Corin said gravely.

"Not by their Majesties' own accord," Beruna reprimanded gently. "But barred from Narnia now all the same."

"If only they can protect Narnia and they are barred, have I doomed this land?" he asked in despair.

The woods goddess and river god saw he was sincere in his grief and decided to give Narnia the hope that they all, Corin in particular, needed now of all times.

"Send your best knights out to recover Rhindon and Queen Susan's horn and bring them here, to the Stone Table," Pomona instructed. "From this you shall receive the hope Narnia needs."

Knowing their mystic ways, Corin believed with his whole heart that while the instructions may be peculiar, they were good. Corin leapt onto his horse and galloped off to Cair Paravel to set about this new quest at once before the Telmarines might attack again.

They scoured the area about Lantern Waste all night to no avail. But not long after the first red lights of dawn, Mr. Tumnus ran up, waving his arms wildly.

"King Corin! King Corin! I found what you are looking for! The magic of Narnia returned their Majesties' gifts to their treasure chests. The cordial, Rhindon, Queen Susan's horn, the dagger, bow, and arrow, they are all there!" Mr. Tumnus said, his face flushed with excitement.

"You know this to be true?" Corin said, unwilling to get himself excited to be only disappointed yet again.

"I do. With my own eyes!" he said, clenching his hands on his horns in excitement.

"Then to Cair Paravel, we ride!" Corin announced as they headed back to Narnia.

Sure enough, the valued treasures were there as promised. "Let the cordial remain in the treasure chest. Before the Telmarines return, we will destroy the only entrance so that only those who know where it is located may find the entrance," Corin proclaimed.

He personally delivered the horn and Rhindon and himself laid them reverently on velvet pillows at the feet of Pomona and Beruna.

"Ivory horn of the Queen your power protects. Your mistress is gone, dying are her subjects. In a thousand years time, call her and family to Narnia's aid. A triumphant return to their righteous crusade," Pomona incanted, laying her branched softly on the horn and clenching it in her twigs. Her bark then morphed to cover the horn. "This shall remain hidden in the forest until one who is worthy quests for it. Let it be known that the only one of Narnian and enemy blood who seeks to unite the two may find the horn in the heart of my forest."

"What's that mean?" Corin demanded, even though he knew better than to expect an answer.

"My gift to Narnia is more straightforward," Beruna said, almost as to rebuke Pomona's ambiguity. He raised his watery arms and the many fords and rivers rushed to the Stone Table.

Corin watched in open-mouth amazement at his display of power. In his stupor, he almost didn't notice what the waters were carrying: rocks. A few were quite large, too large to even call a boulder. Others were small enough that one might hold them in their hands. As the largest boulders fell about the Stone Table, Corin shouted out in surprise, worried that they might annihilate the treasured memorial.

"These rocks protect the Stone Table. They will not harm it," Pomona explained crisply.

Streams of water built the rocks on top of each other, the water then hardening to a strong substance of its own. Beruna then took Rhindon and plunged it into the heart of the pile of stones. Corin almost shouted out for such a thing may blunt or if strong enough, even break the sword, but it slid through as easily as butter.

"Try to pull it out, young King" Beruna instructed.

"But you only just put it in," he protested, confused.

"Go on. Try," Pomona said. Corin walked up, placing both hands upon it, but then no matter how much strength he might put into it, the sword would not budge.

"By the time Pomona's prophecy comes to pass, no one will be alive to recognize the High King and his royal family. The sword knows the blood of his master. It will not budge for one with other blood," Beruna said gravely.

"So this is the end then? A thousand years of occupation for Narnia?" Corin said, feeling sick at the thought. While no one expected him to live up to the brilliance of the Golden Ages, even in his worst nightmares of the many ways he could possibly fail, he hadn't thought up this much destruction.

"You have not failed Narnia, boy," Beruna said gravely, as though reading Corin's very thoughts of inadequateness. "This was written in the stars long before you were even born."

"Indeed. These will be the salvation of Narnia," Pomona confirmed as her leaves rippled in the ripe wind.

Thus the horn came to be the Narnians' last hope for the jubilant return of their rightful rulers as their country was stripped away from them. And as the Narnians were forced to retreat into the forest, they vowed to always have a guard over the sword in the stone until the return of its true owner.


	2. Chapter 2

Just a few days after the horn had been blown and Caspian had been more or less accepted as the leader of the Narnians, they raided Miraz's camp for supplies. They knew Miraz was likely to retaliate at any moment and were on edge. Caspian was speaking with a group of his closest friends about their next steps when suddenly Trufflehunter sniffed about wildly.

"What is it?" Caspian demanded.

"Human…" Trufflehunter mused.

"Telmarine?" Dr. Cornelius asked, alarmed as several other Narnians began sniffing.

"Our noses can't tell _that_ much details. Humans all smell more or less the same," a Dog said defensively.

"Either way, we should engage them," Caspian concluded. "Better than letting them creep up on us."

Several of them followed him, Dogs leading the way by their noses.

"The smell's mostly from there, but there's another one coming here too," Trufflehunter confirmed.

Caspian ran ahead where Trufflehunter said the nearby smell was, pulling his sword out, ready to fight. He saw a man there, his hand on his own sword. With a yell, Caspian engaged the man in a fight, the swords clashing so hard that sparks flew into the still air. The man roared as he struck back harder, just as hot for the fight as he was.

Caspian gritted his teeth. This man was a formidable opponent. His style was unique, unlike any Telmarine's he had ever seen. It took all of Caspian's concentration to keep up with this new style.

But as the Narnians gathered around, the man glanced at them, startled and distracted. Caspian smirked. No doubt the man had never seen such strange creatures before. He took advantage of his distraction to strike down with what should have been a killer blow. But the man noticed just barely in time, merely the breath of a hand above his face, and raised his own sword to block.

Caspian's strike may have been blocked, but his strength was great. The other man's sword shattered to pieces, him ducking quickly to avoid Caspian's powerful blow which still managed to knick him. The man roared out in pain, but managed to run around Caspian. Angrily, Caspian followed the man, determined to cut him down. He had seen the Narnians; he might go back and tell the other Telmarines where they were.

Peter – for of course it was he – was absolutely confused. He had woken before his siblings and Trumpkin, so he decided to stake out the area, see if he might find any clue of the Narnians. Instead, this man had come seemingly out of nowhere and decided to attack him. He didn't know why, but the man was clearly Telmarine, so he fought back in earnest. He had seen the Narnians. But he couldn't tell, was this man with them? If so, then Peter could reason with him.

Well, could if he was given even a second to breath. In that tiny breath of a moment in which he noticed the Narnians watching, the man gave an extremely well-aimed blow. Peter roared in pain at that. That was it for Peter, making him red hot furious. They fought until Peter's old, brittle with age shattered to pieces. His sharp instincts coming back to him, Peter ducked without even needing to think about it and sprinted.

To his confusion, he saw Rhindon. Stuck in a rock of all things. He shook his head, thinking he must now be going crazy. And yet there it was. Just when he needed a sword, a true miracle. He decided not to overthink it and ran to it, pulling it as easily as a knife from butter. His trusty companion shone as beautiful as the day that Father Christmas entrusted it to him. It was a weightless, merely an extension of him arm. With it, he again felt he was the High King, something he had not felt since the moment they walked back through the wardrobe.

And he was not the only one. When he turned to face the Telmarine again, he saw the Narnians all staring at him in shock. Even more confusing, the Telmarine looked as pale as a sheet, gaping at him openly.

"H-How?" the Telmarine gasped weakly.

"The…the river god…Beruna," Trufflehunter began in a garbled fashion. "Only the High King may draw…"

"All…All hail High King Peter. The Magnificient," Oreius intoned in his deep voice, coming to his senses first. He drew his sword and lifted it in respect, inclining his head. The other Narnians took longer to come to their senses, not willing to let their hopes be dashed again. But one by one, they reverently drew their swords and genuflected.

Peter gulped. He had absolutely no clue what was going on, but it was clear he was home at last. Drawn by the commotion, his siblings finally ran up, too late for the fighting, and stood by his side as though they were in the great Throne Room of Cair Paravel once more as they were in the Golden Age.


End file.
